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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556934">If I love You Was a Promise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bidness/pseuds/bidness'>bidness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:02:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bidness/pseuds/bidness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>" Alec watches him, his mind undoubtedly calculating every possible outcome of this scenario, and Magnus has a lifetime to wait for him to find what he’s looking for. He’s content to be studied, to offer whatever Alec needs to quell the confusion and frustration in his soul, but he doesn’t think he will find it. Magnus doesn’t hold any answers for Alec, only opportunities. "</p>
</blockquote>One night of promises, and the loss of a friend encompassed in the warm embrace of a love that can't be kept.<p>It takes place after Ragnor's death, and the night before Alec's wedding.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Magnus Bane &amp; Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane &amp; Ragnor Fell, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If I love You Was a Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The inspiration from this came from the FINNEAS song <i>Let's fall in love for the night.</i></p><p>Title is from Billie Eilish's <i>idontwannabeyouanymore</i>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, watching the city lights through his wine glass twinkle like the stars above as the night sky darkens on a dreary night, the loss of a great friend hanging heavy on his shoulders. <em> What a sorry sight you make. </em> </p><p> </p><p>He’s never been one to take losing people easy, especially those he actually carried close, friendships that transcended the flow of time. It would happen eventually, he knew. Whether him, Catarina, Camille, or... Magnus shakes his head, the intention of shaking out what little bit of resolve to keep himself together stopping short with the phantom grip on his arm. Ragnor wouldn’t want this. Ragnor would berate him and make him feel a fool for letting his emotions cloud over him like a dark Seattle rain. </p><p> </p><p>But Ragnor isn’t here to stop him, he reminds himself, taking a deep gulp of the bitter wine in his glass.  </p><p> </p><p>It’s a beautiful city at night. He watches the people, small and oblivious to the envious eyes of Magnus high above them, living their lives and never knowing the true gift they’ve been given that they don’t have to live several more decades with the ache of loneliness. Sometimes he wishes he was mortal; wishes that he couldn’t outlive the painful thud in his heart when the universe takes with every life a piece of him.  </p><p> </p><p>Surely after hundreds of years of loss there shouldn’t be anything left of him. But alas, here he stands, jealous of the Mundanes below him and his head fuzzy with too much alcohol. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not too busy to feel the thrum in his wards that lets him know Alec Lightwood is going to knock on his door in a minute, and not even that knowledge fluffs his chest. With a grand sigh to nobody but himself, he flounces to the door and casts it open to reveal the startled nephilim.  </p><p> </p><p>“Magnus,” Alec says in surprise, winded and plump lips parted. If he didn’t look so startled Magnus would consider him a work of art from the Angels themselves.  </p><p> </p><p>“If you were not expecting to find me here, perhaps you shouldn’t have come to my apartment.” </p><p> </p><p>He knows his response is icy, but Alec is here looking perfectly <em> alive</em>, while the ache in his chest grows darker with anger because these shadowhunters continue to come in and throw his life around haphazardly, no caution to the consequences that will completely and utterly affect Magnus’ existence. Alec doesn’t want him, he’s here to see him for help he’s sure, but he doesn’t <em> want </em> him like Magnus wants him. Magnus has thrown himself and his friends into the line of fire for these shadowhunters, for <em> Alec</em>, only to be the ones that have to pick themselves back up in the end. </p><p> </p><p>Magnus doesn’t want to see Alec’s reaction, as much as he wants to look into those near-constant stormy eyes, he doesn’t think he can bear to look into something that might rival the hurricane he feels in his head. He chooses to make his way back to the balcony, his forearms sore and indented from spending too much time there already, but it’s the only place he feels like being right now. Ragnor would have hated this view. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a shuffle behind him, the sound of shoes scuffing against the carpet and then concrete. Alec is behind him, but he won’t acknowledge the presence, won’t give the shadowhunter the pleasure of getting his attention yet again. He’s already thrown himself out there for Alec like a barren bone to a fed dog. He isn’t wanted. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” comes softly from behind him, closer than Magnus expected. </p><p> </p><p><em> Sorry won’t bring my friend back. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Magnus drains his glass, feels the taste of the wine that tickles at his taste buds, lets the alcohol sit in the back of his throat for longer than necessary. He hates this wine. He doesn’t care for the bitterness of it that reminds him of too-strong coffee, but it was Ragnor’s favorite, and he savors the last drops on his tongue, the last bit of Ragnor he’ll allow himself to mourn over.  </p><p> </p><p>He’s always promised himself one... one glass of their favorite drink before he locks them away in his memories and resumes his life. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He doesn’t look because he knows it’s Alec, and he won’t allow himself the distraction while he’s still savoring his last moments of Ragnor. Alec doesn’t seem to mind; he seems to understand that Magnus needs this time. The warmth is comforting, the body heat between them when Alec shuffles a couple inches closer clashes with the blanket of cold that comes with New York nights.  </p><p> </p><p>He’s content to just stay like this. He enjoys the silent company of the nephilim, and if it were anybody else, he might have already tossed them outside and away from the sight of his mourning. But Alec is different, he hates that he is, but he can’t deny it even to himself. If only his misdirected sense of duty and flawed desire to dredge up his family from the disaster of the Lightwood name his parents bestowed upon them, then maybe... </p><p> </p><p><em> No, </em> Magnus reminds himself.  </p><p> </p><p>The tangy taste of the wine slips from his senses at last, and with it the melancholy reminiscence of a companion years past.  </p><p> </p><p>With a fragile smile that dares not to bear any hint of happiness, he turns to Alec. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Alexander?” </p><p> </p><p>Alec seems conflicted, and Magnus wants to soothe it from his face with his fingers, but he remains where he is, vividly aware of the heat that still seeps through from his shoulder.  </p><p> </p><p>“I wanted to see how you were doing,” he begins slowly, tasting the words in his mouth, unsure. “I heard about Ragnor from Jace. I know he was your friend.” </p><p> </p><p>“He <em> is </em> my friend,” Magnus responds solemnly, and Alec frowns. “I still feel the traces of his magic. He’s gone, but not completely, possibly not ever. Ragnor was very wise and ancient, not just in his looks,” he quips, covering the sadness in his tone with a poor attempt at humor. “Just because he’s no longer here physically doesn’t mean he stops being my friend. I’ll always have my love and memories of him.” </p><p> </p><p>“I - I’m sorry,” Alec stutters, letting his hand fall from Magnus’ shoulder, and Magnus tries not to think about how cold that spot feels now. “I didn’t mean -” </p><p> </p><p>Magnus swiftly turns to face Alec, pressing a finger against the supple lips to silence the rambling. He’s perceptive enough to notice the way those lips pucker towards his digit, so quick and tiny in a whispered kiss. If only Alec meant it as more than a reflex. </p><p> </p><p>“I understand, and I took no offense. I was merely elaborating.”  </p><p> </p><p>They don’t break the gaze they find themselves in for several long seconds, the sounds of the city are bustling and loud beneath them, but they pay it no mind. New York is just an onlooker in a moment of wistful want that Magnus wants to cocoon himself in forever. Or at least a couple hundred years. </p><p> </p><p>He finds himself pulling back first, his finger slipping away from the warm of Alec’s breath. It will do him no good to confuse their situation. Alec made it very clear where Magnus stands in his life, and he will not make the mistake of misreading a moment of sympathy.  </p><p> </p><p>With the twist of his fingers, he summons himself another drink, something stronger and harsher than Ragnor’s wine. Something to dull the senses and leave him blissfully floating in solitude.  </p><p> </p><p>He raises his glass towards Alec, a gesture and an offer for a drink as well, but he shakes his head and turns to lean his forearms on the balcony, an echo of Magnus a few minutes prior. There’s something...<em> off. </em> He’s used to the aloof behavior Alec radiates, the militaristic defense and movement he consistently carries with him. But now, in front of Magnus so heartbreakingly beautiful and pure, he seems sad. </p><p> </p><p>Magnus sees it from the furrow of his brow, the gaze that travels from mundane, to buildings, to the stars that surround them. He sees it in the hunch of his back and slump of his shoulders that are burdened with obligation and responsibility. Responsibility to a family that would hide behind him and push him towards the attack of the Clave against their honor. The set of his jaw, slack with words that are threatening to spill out are all Magnus receives in a warning before Alec speaks, and he’s thankful he sees because the words are soft and carried with the breeze of the night that he wouldn’t have heard it otherwise. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m scared, Magnus.” </p><p> </p><p>It’s a moment of vulnerability he’s being graced with, and Magnus is eternally appreciative, soaking up every shadow that darkens Alec’s features, every subtle shift that almost makes him look as if he’s trembling.  </p><p> </p><p>There are so many things he wants to say, so many words from years of living and experience that are there, <em> somewhere</em>, but they don’t come to mind. Magnus has felt duty, he’s had to live through so many wars, so many drafts that have made his heart sink with sorrow because he knows he’ll have to watch thousands of people die, and he’ll have to kill as many in return. He’s felt the overwhelming anger rise up in him that he <em> had to </em> follow orders, all the years when he was still learning how to hone his magic, forced to live through the will of his father. How many times has responsibility and his askew need to belong to a family caused him so much suffering, inevitable and constant when you’re at the hands of Asmodeus?    </p><p> </p><p>Despite this life he’s lived, despite all of his lamenting his immortality has always made it possible to outlive the consequences of his choices.  </p><p> </p><p>Alec doesn’t share that satisfaction. For him, the choices for his life are final and resolute.  </p><p> </p><p>“Fear is never fleeting, my dear,” the warlock begins, grimly. “It hides, and sometimes it can be overcome, but it will never leave you.” </p><p> </p><p>It’s most likely not what Alec wants to hear, but Magnus isn’t in the spirit to cater to optimism.  </p><p> </p><p>There’s a silence that settles over them, creeps around them in a way that Magnus has to actively focus on anything other than Alec. He tries, his eyes lifting to the moon, dancing across the stars, and falling down to the skyline of the city. Thoughts of other places, other people, other lives fill his imagination. He thinks on nights in France, wine-drunk and happy in Reims, surrounded by friends, by Ragnor.  His nose fills with the scents of the markets and his mouth flavors with the taste of spices from a lifetime ago as he walked with Camille down the streets of Delhi. </p><p> </p><p>“I wish I could know if I’m making the right choice.” </p><p> </p><p>Alec’s voice brings him back to the present, reminds him of a troubled nephilim who is <em> doing his </em> <em> best</em>. He feels guilty. </p><p> </p><p>“Alexander, there is no right or wrong. Your life is not a test, there is no codex of answers, nobody behind the curtain to tell you that you picked wrong. Everything is up to you, decided by you, and the only one who is forced to accept those decisions is you. Not Jace, nor Isabelle, not even your parents.” </p><p> </p><p>Magnus doesn’t turn to look at Alec, he keeps his eyes on skyscrapers that glint with the flicker of life inside of them. He doesn’t want to see the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows the truth of his reality, or the grateful sheen in his eyes for Magnus’ advice. Looking at Alec makes things difficult.  </p><p> </p><p>When he feels the faintest touch of fingers on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to Alec, it hurts a part of Magnus that he doesn’t want to open up again.  </p><p> </p><p>“You make it all sound so easy,” Alec whispers.  </p><p> </p><p>“It can be,” he offers quickly, a promise.   </p><p> </p><p>Their voices have grown so quiet inside of the noise around them that it’s not surprising when Magnus realizes they’re only inches apart.  </p><p> </p><p>Alec watches him, his mind undoubtedly calculating every possible outcome of this scenario, and Magnus has a lifetime to wait for him to find what he’s looking for. He’s content to be studied, to offer whatever Alec needs to quell the confusion and frustration in his soul, but he doesn’t think he will find it. Magnus doesn’t hold any answers for Alec, only opportunities. </p><p> </p><p>The emotions that flare in Alec’s eyes are intense, and had Magnus not had years to attune himself to empathy he might not be able to catch them. But he does, he counts each and every one of them like he’s counting victories, boasts that he can name them all. It doesn’t scare him to be presented so closely with all the turmoil, he’s seen it before. Alec is young, <em> so young</em>, and up until recently had succumbed to living a life of repression.  </p><p> </p><p>Alec’s eyes are everywhere as he regards Magnus, fingertips light against the skin of his face. They flit to his forehead where the tuft of his hair begins, sideways to the cuff on his ear, takes in the dark smudge around his eyes before falling to his lips. The stare doesn’t end, doesn’t change direction, they stay firmly planted on his lips and he wants to wet them from the sudden attention, but he doesn’t want to break this trance. </p><p> </p><p>With the slowest movements, he feels the brush of skin along his chin, feels Alec pulling him forward, and he knows it’s wrong but after preaching about how there is no right or wrong Magnus can’t be bothered to stop him.  </p><p> </p><p>It’s hesitant and soft, much too soft for anything Magnus would have preferred with anyone else, but with Alec it’s fitting. It’s perfect. </p><p> </p><p>Their lips are connected, barely, and Magnus wants to move closer but this isn’t for him.  </p><p> </p><p>The city makes no change below them. It doesn’t care that they’re standing here, not close enough to be indecent, but not far enough away to be anything but intimate. People continue to live their lives, continue to see them end, continue to be unaware of the future.  </p><p> </p><p>Magnus isn’t sure of the future that blossoms from this moment either, he can’t tell fortunes, but he’s sure it ends beautifully. He envisions a life he’s never had, filled with the new love of a Shadowhunter, territory he’s never stepped foot into until now. It feels once in a lifetime, something he won’t dare to do again, but risky enough to try just once with the right person. And Alec Lightwood is it. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a grip on his waist that tugs at him, and Magnus lets it. He allows himself to fall into Alec’s arms, warm and innocent, but tentative with inexperience that mirror the lips that brush against his own. Part of him wants to cry with how sweet it all is. Maybe he wants to cry for more than that reason, but he won’t let himself deal with anything outside of this moment. </p><p> </p><p>The kiss ingrained in Magnus’ mind lasts an eternity, but the reality of it is much shorter, and Alec pulls back just enough to lean his forehead to Magnus’. His breath is shuddered when it leaves his mouth, and Magnus takes it in, inhaling all of Alec’s worries and insecurities. </p><p> </p><p>“I want this,” the Shadowhunter begins, the tremor in his voice carrying across the space between them, what little of it there is. “I want to be able to do this.” </p><p> </p><p>“Then do it.” </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t.” </p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” </p><p> </p><p>The words come out of them so quickly Magnus feels the slight jolt of anger, an involuntary response to the subject of their inability to be together. He knows his words are instigating. He’s digging up a battle he’s already lost.  </p><p> </p><p>Alec sighs, and Magnus keeps his lips sealed because this isn’t a breath he wants. “You know why. I can’t choose between you and my duty to my family. I can’t have both.” </p><p> </p><p>There’s a gnawing in his chest, old wounds rehashed and Magnus almost pulls away, almost brushes Alec out of his life for good. But Ragnor’s voice in his head stops him. He remembers a night, three hundred years ago, a night of admonishment from a beloved friend that caused Magnus to open his heart up and love again. A doleful lump in his throat forms, and he feels the sting in his eyes that he will never get to experience another moment like that with his friend, but he steadily pushes it back down until he’s ready to deal with it.  </p><p> </p><p>There’s a more pressing matter to attend to.  </p><p> </p><p>In his musings, Alec has distanced himself from Magnus, both of his arms hanging limply at his side, lifeless and uncharacteristic. He sees the anguish, so clear on Alec’s face that Magnus wishes he could be more open with his feelings, but also secretly pleased that he’s one of very few who will get to see anything but the calm exterior he wears so casually like a mask.  </p><p> </p><p>“What if you could have both, Alexander?” </p><p> </p><p>He’s met with silence and a cautious look, as expected. Gingerly, Magnus lifts his hand, only pausing when Alec flinches, and presses his palm against the warmed skin of Alec’s cheek. He holds back a smile at the subconscious tilt of Alec’s head into his touch, and he wants so badly to pluck him out of the Institute and his parent’s clutch for good, to lavish him with the warm loving attention of someone who will put him first, above all others. Magnus wants so much for him, wants to give him everything he desires because he deserves it. But he can’t give what won’t be taken.  </p><p> </p><p>“What - What do you mean?” Alec’s voice is so small and ambivalent. </p><p> </p><p>Magnus leans closer, brushes his nose to Alec’s in a show of affection that precedes the kiss he brings with it. Alec exhales, shaky and timid, and Magnus soaks it up, takes it in as one of his own. Their lips are moving now, no longer just a gentle skim, but something greater and heightened with longing. It feels like the ocean, bodies moving in a wave that forms in their hands, drags across their skin and tingles with the crash of their lips after they’ve parted for air.  </p><p> </p><p>“Just for the night,” Magnus murmurs against the darkened lips before him. “Let’s fall in love.” </p><p> </p><p>He feels Alec tense, his body is so tightly enveloped in his arms that he can’t do anything but feel Alec’s every move. But he doesn’t let go of Magnus, doesn’t laugh at his suggestion. Instead, he brings a hand to ghost against Magnus’ face, tenderly, <em> lovingly</em>. It makes his chest tingle with a pain that’s welcome and terrifying all at once.  </p><p> </p><p>“Nephilim love once,” Alec says quietly, pressing a kiss against the corner of Magnus’ mouth. He shudders with the reverence of it, and Alec continues his last word: “fiercely.” </p><p> </p><p>Magnus has no response, but Alec doesn’t seek one out, only searches for something more beneath his lips, searches for the love that Magnus has volunteered willingly.  </p><p> </p><p>His body is hot, and his stomach feels displaced inside of him, as they walk together back into Magnus’ loft, the city beneath his balcony forgotten. Their hands and lips are roaming now as they stumble their way in, and Magnus can’t care about closing the door, can’t even fathom the fact that they’ve knocked over several of very expensive artifacts and ingredients along the way to the bedroom. His apartment is materialistic, but this moment with Alec is transient and euphoric. </p><p> </p><p>Alec touches him, burning desire through every carefully crafted wall he’s built, and Magnus feels himself fall hard and fast, feels himself crumble under the nimble fingers that tease and tug and clutch. He comes undone so easily, so quickly, and when the tables are turned, he prides himself on his ability to do the same. They move as one, <em> finally</em>, and Magnus can’t recall a single memory that surpasses this, knows he won’t ever live to see another.  </p><p> </p><p>He’s offered Alec the night, gives himself over unconditionally to the man in his bed, the man who sees his heart so exposed and open for him, but he knows it comes with an addendum.  </p><p> </p><p>Words covered so sweetly in thick honey are whispered against Magnus’ neck, and he feels smitten with adoration for the elated lazy smile that’s fixed on Alec’s lips. He kisses those lips, because he can, and tries to push down the hope that bubbles in his heart for this to be his reality. </p><p> </p><p>The pad of Alec’s thumb is callous against his overworked skin, but he commits it to the memory of the night. In the morning things will go back to how they were, <em> how they have to be</em>. He’s resigned himself to his fate, but right now he’s going to cherish and worship every sense that tangles around and inside of him.       </p><p> </p><p>Alec reciprocates his desires, surrendering himself over to the feelings of Magnus’ love and care, entrusts Magnus not to break him past the point of no return. Because there is no point for them, they’re kindred and forever, and Magnus knows he’ll never be able to open his heart up to anyone while Alec is still living and breathing on this Earth. He doesn’t love two people at once. </p><p> </p><p>He promised the night, but he knows he’ll love Alec far longer than that.  </p><p> </p><p>In the morning Alec leaves quietly with stolen kisses that he knows are risking more than he can give. He takes Magnus’ heart with him, overused and full from the night before, but he leaves his own until they can trade again, however many years that will take. Magnus has forever to wait.  </p><p> </p><p>He plays the memories over in his mind as he sits above his city, years later, and they’re just as fresh as the night they happened. The wine in his hand is sweet and mellow, so different than the wine he drank that night, the wine he hasn’t tasted since Ragnor left. He has a bottle in his apartment, waiting to be consumed, the bitter taste of Ragnor’s favorite vineyard calling out to him on nights when he feels the hole in his heart for his friend.  </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t drink it; he knows he won’t because it’s not just Ragnor that comes to mind when he thinks about the taste in his mouth. It’s Alec, saccharine and heavenly and just out of reach.  </p><p> </p><p>The people are loud beneath him, the breath of a new day awakening the crowded streets, <em> a new city</em>, and Magnus remembers how Alec looked in the morning. He remembers the indulgent smile as they kissed, remembers the forlorn look before he turned around and marched on to his new life. He wonders what he’s doing now, back in New York, but it’s a useless thought.  </p><p> </p><p>He takes a swig of his drink and steps away from his balcony, away from thoughts of the man who still holds his heart, and memories of the whispered <em> I love you </em> hot on his skin. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote it with a different expectation in mind, but I really loved how it turned out. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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